


the isle is full of noises and sweet airs

by verulam (krynon)



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Blowjobs, Collars, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dreams, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3988165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krynon/pseuds/verulam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys' dreams of Jack are many, but they aren't usually so... realistic.</p><p>"Rhys wants to agree, he really does, but the hand at his head is pulling him up again, and he's not built to withstand this pressure, this whatever-it-was, where it feels so sharp and spine-tipped but so good, dripping in something sweet that Rhys wants to put his mouth on.<br/>...<br/>"It's like there's something in the air flitting in and about him, hazy and heavy and seductive; deep and slippery against him but so hot, burning; it isn't until the metal in his mouth is out and back under his control that he realises how needy he feels."</p>
            </blockquote>





	the isle is full of noises and sweet airs

**Author's Note:**

> No real warnings for this one! Maybe some derealisation if you're someone who struggles with distinguishing dreams from reality?
> 
> This is unbetaed, if anyone spots anything off, be sure to drop me a comment!
> 
> Title is from The Tempest and I am jackrhys TRASH dont look at me

He doesn't imagine it like this, usually.

Usually it's all saccharine sweet, emotional and tender, like he actually means something- like he's somehow attached at the hip to the idea of him, to the idea of men and women with tender eyes and soft hearts.

And look, he understands that Jack was never really like that. That Jack had been... Difficult, at times, and that "tender" was not usually something that people attributed to him.

That Jack would probably suck him out of an airlock, rather than suck his dick.

 

But usually, that realisation- that conscious, thrumming of fear- made it nowhere near his dreams. Rhys has got an active imagination, dreams almost every night- usually just hazes, depths of smiles and a sweet dessert, maybe a hug if his brain was feeling particularly emotional that day because Vasquez was being a dick from his office across the hall, or something.

But when it came to Jack, even the desperate, demanding and forceful Jack of his more... Interesting dreams, that had _nothing_ on this one.

 

(Jack had appeared two nights ago, and could apparently see into his head, now. It hadn't been a problem, but now it _was_. )

 

Jack is above him, that much is quite clear. He can feel that there's something- too big and too wide, but slicked up against his tongue- in his mouth. Rhys notices absently that he feels like he's flooding through the scene, watching in and feeling out at the same time. There's something tight around his neck, and Jack's hand is lodged in his hair.

It's gripping hard enough to hurt- hard enough that he should jerk away, now he can feel it.

But the Rhys sitting at Handsome Jack's feet hasn't seemed to get the memo, staring dreamily but blankly up beneath his eyelids.

God, he looks _debauched._

His arm and hips- he's naked, but for some reason that doesn't feel shocking, like he should be naked and vulnerable- are painted in bruises, his neck pulled up and taught by a collar, a brutal looking thing made of brown leather and blackened metal.

When his cock stirs against his thigh, he pointedly ignores it.

He's sitting on a pillow- a plush, purple looking thing, and he's next to a desk, overlooking a planet a hundred miles below-

Holy shit, he's crouched on his haunches, naked, in Handsome Jack's office- and Jack's hand is in his hair.

 

Apparently Rhys' shock is present in him down on the pillow, too, because Jack's hand moves to drag through his hair instead, not delicate by any means but- it scrapes down his spine, and honestly Rhys feels the tingle of his scalp all the way down his back.

"Sh, Rhysie. I'm busy, I won't tell you again." But-

Oh god, Rhys is in _deep,_ he's only had Jack in his head for 3 days, but there's something about his iron-steel tone, something in its brutal clarity, that makes Rhys want to mewl and put his goddamn neck on display.

He tries to mumble his assent, he really does, but it doesn't take long for him to realise what the thing in his mouth is. It's not a gag, like he'd suspected, it's- and Rhys isn't even sure if it's worse or better than he'd feared- his own goddamn hand.

Metal fingers- silver, for some reason, but still from the same socket in his arm, and still treacherous to Jack. They flex against his tongue, and he swallows around them, drool and saliva dripping down his chin obscenely.

Fucking hell, he was in deep.

"Rhys, I told you to be quiet. I'm gonna need you to stop moaning like a bitch in heat." Rhys hadn't even realised he'd been _doing it,_ but then-

The fingers go further into his mouth, his hair is yanked back enough to make him wince, make tears pool in his eyes from the stinging of it- his dick is being pretty clear that he's actually really into this, and he-

He looks up, really up, at Jack, sees his crotch and legs spread wide apart like he owns the earth, and his eyes on Rhys like a hawk. One of his hands is grappling tightly with Rhys' hair, his mouth's jabbering away at someone on the other end of his phone, but somehow his brain is telling him not to listen, that subconsciously he needs to obey before Jack even asks and Rhys' dick stiffens _again._

Jack smiles, slamming the button on his desk to end the call- probably telling someone the time of their execution, and Rhys hates himself a little for not questioning or worrying- and now all of Jack's attention is on him. His whole body angled forward, predatory; the hand in his hair wrenches him up from his haunches.

" _So,_ pumpkin. We're feeling a little vocal today, are we?"

He can see straight into Jack's eyes, narrowed and glinting with something- it's difficult, he can't think through the dream-haze, he's not supposed to reply, but he _is_ meant to reply, he's just not sure how.

"I-"

Jack yanks him forward, off of the comfort of the pillow and down onto the floor. He lands with a wince, cringing at the crack of his knees but altogether dazed by the fact that he was _between Handsome Jack's legs._

"We've. Covered. This. Kiddo. I tell you jump, you say how high. Or, in this case," he purrs, then suddenly jolts forward up into Rhys' personal space, and goddamn it Rhys can feel his legs shift open, "I say shut up, and you _shut up._ "

The grin- wide and brutal, the sight of it going straight to a twinge in Rhys's dick- stretches further. "Have you forgotten, cupcake?" The hand moves from where it had been cupping his skull, now delicately tracing against the metal collar bound at his neck- it's tender, but predatory, something Rhys hadn't realised he would be  into until right at this moment- Jack is still by his ear, and:

"I _own_ you."

Rhys mewls out a stuttered breath, grips hard to Jack’s ankles, and feels Jack's low chuckle against his sides when his knees tighten up around him like a vice.

"Now, sweetie," a breath, a pause, and it seems like Jack's timed it to the second, because he gives Rhys' just enough time to glance up under his lashes to Jack's bulging crotch, _"Get to goddamn work._ "

It's calculated, designed to make him pant and scrabble desperately with his fingers at Jack's crotch, and it does.

It feels like there's something in the air flitting in and about him, hazy and heavy and sweet; deep and slippery against him but so hot and burning; it isn't until the metal in his mouth is out and back under his control that he realises how needy he feels, like it's important that he's filled- needs Jack's dick as soon as possible, thrumming in his mouth.

"Less thinking," growls Jack, "More sucking."

But honestly, his fingers shake and he's trembling so much that after the buttons of his trousers is undone, it's all he can do to mouth at Jack's cock through his underwear.

Jack's hand is back at the back of his head again, gripping and guiding, and goddamn does Rhys try his hardest. Nuzzling and pushing his mouth against the barely constrained lines of Jack's cock, his breath seems to come thickly, in short gasps that leave him whining deeply in the back of his throat.

He starts when Jack's voice rings out again.

"Take 'em off." There's a second of him looking up blankly at Jack's smile, and another where Jack growls from above, below and around him, seemingly everywhere at once.

"Cupcake, if you don't suck my cock in the next 20 seconds, you don't want to know what I'll do to you."

And wow, Rhys most definitely does want to know what Jack would do- his cock is so hard it's bouncing off his stomach- but the idea of Jack's cock in his mouth, maybe of Jack fucking into his face-

Rhys pulls down the underwear, and Jack's dick, already slick with precum, is up and ready for him to suck-

Rhys plunges his head forward with no hesitation, and almost chokes when his gag reflex trips, forcing down the coughs in favour of keeping as much of the thing in his mouth as he can. It seems _huge_ , hits against the sides of his mouth and presses his tongue down flat.

"Woah there, Rhysie. Slow it down, you little whore," Jack chuckles and Rhys rutts up into empty air. "I know you love my cock-"

And when Rhys whines out "yessss" against his thigh, it feels like it's ripped out of his chest. A stop, a pause in Jack's tone, before the predator is back and Rhys feels _owned_.  "Oh, really? You love my cock that much, my pretty little whore? Huh?"

Rhys manages to nod from where he's got his mouth on Jack's balls, mouthing like he might die if he didn't.

It's so hot, and he needs it, Jack's hand at his hair and a collar tying him down, neck stretched long and presenting-

"Tell me how much you love my dick, Rhysie." There's no response, Rhys isn't willing to stop, so he tries his best to use his desperate licking as language. "A-a-a-aaah," taunts Jack, hand now pushing Rhys's head just out of reach of his cock- "Use your words, pumpkin. I want to hear you."

"I-" the hand tightens, and he'd almost feel degraded if the grip on his nape wasn't so good, "I love your cock-" the grip is released and suddenly Rhys is back on his cock with vigour, lapping along the sides and up to the tip, "I love your cock, Jack-"

"Kiddo, you're my personal fucktoy, you got that?" And Rhys wants to agree, he really does, but the hand at his head is pulling him up again, and he's not built to withstand this pressure, this whatever-it-was, where it feels so sharp and spine-tipped but so good, dripping in something sweet that Rhys wants to put his mouth in and never let go.

His head is so hazy, melting against the Titan of Jack, the emperor in his home kingdom, lost and desperate like he never wants to find his way back out of this room if that's what it took-

The hand slams him down, whole mouth filled and throat choking with _Jack_ , and Rhys is _swirling_ with it, it's all too much and not enough, his dick is aching against Jack's leg but he dare not shift because _Jack's_ dick is all that matters right now, huge and thick and good in all the ways he'd never thought of-

Jack purrs up in his ear, voice breathy but so powerful, rumbling deep through him, "Touch yourself, baby, do it," and it's a command that Rhys can't even begin to compute right now-

It's Jack's hands that shift him, right to the centre of Jack's attention, and force his hands down to his own crotch, but even then one hand forces Rhys's mouth up and down-

Christ, he can feel his eyes rolling up, staring at Jack's grin; he must look obscene, a two-penny prostitute that's easily bought-

He starts to thrust into his hands, Jack's grip all that's keeping him bobbing up and down, and he's grateful, so grateful-

Jack's cock plunges in and out of him, and he feels so owned, that yes, yes, he's give anything for it-

"You're my little whore," Jack's voice is cut rough and deep and rumbling, powerful and shuddering up and down his spine, stirring deep in the pit of his gut, "Little bitch in heat, you love getting down on your knees for me, huh?"

And he's so near, the rumbling of Jack's voice going to his cock again and again, he _is_ Jack's whore, his mouth and neck and body owned completely, sucking and hollowing out his cheeks-

"You look so pathetic, all pretty and swollen, sucking on my cock like it's a damned lifeline-"

Rhys' eyebrows pull tight, moans escaping the gaps when he's pulled on and off Jack, so fast and so deep, so good-

"I don't think you'd stop even if you could, huh, Rhys, know why?"

He leaves Rhys dangling, disturbing the rhythm to let him reply, his cock still rutting up into his hands.

"I- Jack, please, why? Please-"

"Oh, Rhysie-" He's forced back down, and Rhys is so grateful because it feels like there's nothing left in his legs to kneel on. "Pumpkin, it's because you love my cock, you _love_ getting fucked, love servicing me-"

Rhys is desperate, thrusting up faster and faster, so near, head filled with brutal nothing's that make him feel like he's swimming in something like honey-

"Rhysie, you'd give up everything for me, wouldn't you? Just to worship my dick, just to lick my cock as you curl on the ground like a little bitch, you'd let me own you completely! Come on baby, shout for me, say my name-"

And he does, Jack's name hanging to his tongue and gripping tight against him, and when Jack cums it's heavy down his throat, feeling the thick throbbing and pulsing of it down his throat-

Holy shit, holy-

Rhys is gulping down every last bit, head bursting and swimming in the heat of Jack's body. He milks Jack's cock for all he's worth, licking and lapping at the slit and feeling every inch a whore for Jack, owned and debased and removed from anything other than this, the salt-deep taste of cum on his tongue and Jack's hands at his head, still so close to a precipice that he’s begging for.

Soon enough, Jack wrenches Rhys' mouth away, his own mouth stretched into a razor-sharp, rough grin.

"Aw, baby, didn't you cum?"

And Rhys wants to scream, loud until it splits him apart, he needs it so much, hand slippery against his cock, he's so near-

"God, _look at you_. You're all mine, you got that?" He fingers at the collar, Rhys shivering from sensitivity, spit and cum drooling down his chin. "All mine. My little fucktoy, huh."

Rhys whines, feels it burning in his chest and so deep in his abdomen that if he'd be able to thrust just once more-

It's like Jack read his mind, because soon his arms are pinned down against his thighs as Jack leans over and speaks directly into his ear, nipping and biting at the shell of it, and Rhys is shivering, sweating without the sensation-

"Oh _no_ , sweet-pea. Pretty fucktoys like you-" He pauses to wipe some of the cum from Rhys' chin, and Rhys perversely and subconsciously preens at the idea that Jack trusts him enough to leave one hand free for a while- "No, you only get to cum when I say, you hear me?"

Rhys' eyes are rolling in his head, it's all too much, the twinge of his collar, Jack's voice back at his ear and his own dick without friction, and Jack jolts the collar, ripping out a strangled sound from somewhere deep in Rhys' chest-

"I said, _do you hear me?"_

"Y-ess, Jack, I- haa- I hear you," Rhys is juddering now, beyond shivering with everything in his body jumping back and forth with the weight of his arousal and absolutely willingness.

"Oh, sweet-pea, you can do better than that, can't you? I thought you wanted to cum?" Rhys is speechless, words seemingly ripped away at the sensation of hands in his hair and pressure at his dick, hazy air swirling at his dick- Jack grins as his eyes blink and he keens high up in his throat, barely able to see-

"Well, kiddo, if you don't want to cum, that's fine with me-"

"N-nooo, I-" Panting and gasping, ripping through his chest in shuddering and faltering beats, he can't remember what he's meant to be saying so he shouts out everything that's in his head- "Jaaaaack, Jaaack, sir, please, please, Handsome Jack, p-lea-aaahn! I- _please-_ "

Jack smiles, "Good boy," jerks him forward again, one hand up at his head with Rhys' hands now free, but he knows he can't touch, he's not allowed to touch, but he needs it so much, needs it beyond anything he's ever needed-

"Now," predatory voice encircles him, rips to the core, floods through him as his dick aches, so near, so near-

" _ **Cum**_."

 

Rhys' eyes white out, everything and nothing exploding and flooding through him, all flickering and convulsing forward with eyes rolled up into his head, crying out Jack's name, screaming it out like it's all he has left.  His orgasm _forces_ its way through him, curling his toes and making his muscles dance around the bone as he shakes down to the core.

Head thrown back and Jack's hands all over him, pulling at his collar-

That'll probably leave bruises, he notices absently, fight and tension abruptly and brutally gone.

 

"There you go, cupcake."  

There's suddenly nothing keeping him up, but Jack is right there, big and powerful, so Rhys careers forward into his warm, stable thigh.

"Whoa there, Rhysie-"

 

And there's a shock of something, and then his eyes are open and there's Jack, but it's dark and Jack is blue for some reason, smiling like a shark-

Oh.

"Wow, Rhys."

Oh, _no._

"I'm gonna hold that over you for a really long time, sweetpea."

Ohhhh, no. No no no.

"Haha, you should have seen yourself! All weeping and throwing yourself on my dick, I mean man, have some self respect-"

There was nothing worse that could possibly come out of this. He wants the floor to eat him, or for a skag to eat him, or to just disappear entirely-

"Really Rhys, what kind of whore demands that I help get you off-? You're a pretty little whore, but you're not a very good one, huh?"

 

Rhys is going to cry. There was no possible worse outcome.

"We can work on that though, I'm sure."

 

Rhys brain drops out of him, plummeting through the floor with his heart and gut.

"Uh- w-what?" Rhys berates himself at that- his tongue was heavy and slow, but this wasn't a dream anymore, and with an actual Jack in front of him eloquence was key-

 

"I said, we're going to work on it, pumpkin."

Jack smiles winningly and winks.

  


Oh, Christ _alive,_ he is in so deep.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you've any questions, find me at verulamion.tumblr.com!


End file.
